I changed all the chapter titles because I hate them. Thinking of them, looking at them; I hate them. They suck. So now they're gone.
I'm sorry this sucks and that it's late. Just know that this is the third, maybe fourth-to-last chapter.
When reading this, remember the lack of an aforementioned time period.
Dallas shifted uneasily. "I hope you don't mind, but I haven't exactly done this before."
"That's quite alright," the priest replied. Or he thought it was a priest. Except there was a sermon going on outside at the same time, so how did that work?
The screen that separated them was the only thing to lend a clue, the dark silhouette of a hook-nosed profile barely visible from Dallas's side. It could've been a nun, with what seemed to be a veil hanging along the side of the face, but the voice was obviously male - so, that was his hair?Odd, Dally decided. All very odd.
"What is on your mind?" Holy man asked. "Relieve yourself of your sins, truly repent, and you will be forgiven."
"I could've gone to a friend," Dallas said honestly, "but that wouldn't... I need somebody who doesn't know me that well to hear this."
"Then you've come to the right place," bluntly said the man.
Dallas continued, "And I guess could've gone to a therapist, but they're really expensive - and I'm in no position to be dishing out money that isn't mine to handle."
"Are you... depending upon someone else?"
Dallas almost hesitated, surprised for a moment. But then, he supposed there was nothing the man hadn't heard thus far in his career; he sounded rather old.
"Yes," Dally said finally.
"Perhaps you feel yourself to be a burden to these people."
Dallas paused, mulling over how it the man seemed to be leading him on. Perhaps he had had a long day and wanted to get it over with already, but... "That's not all I'm sorry for."
There was a stillness, a silence. Nothing could be heard but the echo of the priest (or whoever) conducting mass outside their box, his voice vibrating off the large arches and high marble walls. Because of the chapel's domed roof, his proclamations were all the more boisterous.
Dally sucked in a deep breath, feeling jittery and out-of-place. "Can I... tell you?"
Instead of the expected of course, God loves you, yatta yatta, he received, "If you want to be forgiven."
He certainly didn't feel like it was God's forgiveness he required (he was probably on a straight course to hell with no turning back anyway, by now), but he needed to get this devil of a secret off his chest; and while this sort of forgiveness wasn't the first in his mind of what he really wanted, it was most likely the next best thing.
"Okay," he told the priest. "There's this... person. Hell, a boy. He's not all that young, though he acts like it, so 'boy' is... Anyway, at first I thought I just wanted to... I wanted to do things with him. Like, do things."
"Go on," the man said, undeterred.
"But anyway, I got to know this kid, and suddenly it was a protection thing. He's vulnerable. I like to feel he needs me, but I can't differentiate between actually feeling something and just being greedy - I feel like I love him, but I also feel kind of guilty. A-and I don't want to lead him down a road too soon before he's had a chance to step back and see all his options."
He was babbling. He was babbling and there was no way this guy would even get a third of what he was trying to-
"You most likely feel guilt because of popular views on homosexuality."
Eh?
"Nowadays, there are plenty of 'rights' for those sorts of people, but then most religions haven't yet changed their minds about it. And while laws indicate an equality, it's really just a load of bull-" the man cleared his throat. Stunned, Dally stared ahead.
"What I'm trying to say is, you have no reason to be sorry - morally or legally."
Dally felt better after hearing that. But that was only one complex he tended to dwell on; there was still more to be said, and that something soon crashed around his ears.
He spoke the words, "Father, I did something to hurt someone I love."
And there was nothing more to say.
Dallas and the holy man both felt the forgivings to be cheap. Dallas brooded, disappointed he didn't feel any better now that he had managed to accomplish all that.
Hurriedly he left the suffocating little box, only to stop short when he noticed mass was still going on. Feeling self-conscious, he sat in a nearby pew, deciding to tough it out and stay to avoid drawing attention to himself - it would be impossible not to, what with those large, ominously loud doors. How extravagant! What did they think this was, a basilica? Humble his ass.
He waited it out and, when the service was over, he was one of the first to bolt.
"Slow down there, son."
The voice and restricting hand on his shoulder belonged to a young man with the hindered vocal quality of being old beyond his years. No, wait; at a closer look, there were age lines, perhaps even a gray hair or two in that feathery sea of dark gold.
The man's eerie expression quickly changed to friendly. Dallas inwardly flinched at the sudden transformation and decided that, overall, it was the eyes. Laughing, chocolate brown eyes, serious eyes that held years of prosaic pain and contempt; yet also the slimmest whisper of hope. Familiar eyes he couldn't quite place.
The man let go of Dallas, indifferent as the teenager stumbled back. He dug in his pockets instead, looking preoccupied with more important matters.
"Spare a smoke?"
The accent, Dally realized, was from out of town. The East Coast, actually - so really, out of town. It was New York-ish without actually being New York, which lead Dally to believe it might be Jersey, but... then what was he doing on the opposite side of the country?
"S-sure..." he grumbled, digging in his pocket.
Dally looked at the man closely, trying to figure out where the resemblance started - and with who. He doubted he had ever met this complete stranger, even when he'd lived back East. Really, the man was nearing thirty, perhaps thirty-some - there was no way he could be a former client. But then, what if he was an odd case? And would Dally have been able to recognize him? He'd been only four at the time...
Besides that, the man lacked the usual air of general creepiness most clients sported. And his hand on Dally's shoulder, despite being gruff, wasn't demanding per say. Simply robust.
"Hey, kid. You ready to cough 'em up or not?"
Dally blinked out of his stupor, surprised to see a hand held out before his face. The man sighed.
"Look; you look like a smoker. You smell like one. You talk like most smokers do. I would know, being one; so why don't you give it up - one measly cigarette?"
Dallas felt the need to reply with a biting comment, but instead he found himself at a loss for words. He pulled his lighter and pack out for the stranger, whose eyes sparked with... something.
"A-ha," he said. "I've never misjudged a man."
Dally watched as he graciously inhaled the smoke, exhaling like a chimney.
"Rarely liked to smoke when I was your age," the man said genially, not really attempting conversation so much as filling a silence. "Only ever did when I was stressed or something."
Dallas looked at him. "So now that you're an adult, you're anxious all the time?"
The man paused. Mouth curled into a toxic smile, he silently watched the few stragglers left in the lot get into their cars.
"I've made a lot of mistakes," he supplied simply.
Mrs. Cade laughed, an endearing sound. "Honey, you've got to stop running away and just face the consequences. Every time you do run it makes me a little more disappointed than I would've been if you hadn't."
Her words were good-humored, but her tone was stinging. Still, Dally visually acknowledged everything she said, reminding himself that that was her baby boy he'd dragged to a bar and allowed to get drunk.
And also, the nagging; if he didn't regain her forgiveness, he might not be allotted Johnny's.
"I'm sorry," he said softy, when she was done reprimanding him.
Figuring Dallas's pride hadn't taken enough of a beating, she pointed out, "Don't apologize to me. Johnny's the one most hurt by this; you didn't even call."
"It's only been a day," Dallas grumbled. Then, wrenching his tone to a better-natured one, "But... where is he?"
Ms. Cade sighed, feeling beat. It was impossible to stay mad at someone when Johnny put so much trust in them. "He's around town with... well, tell me if this sounds crazy... but Pony and Brian?"
Dally thanked her, repeatedly, before leaping off the porch and breaking into a run. As she watched him go, a smile crept onto her lips.
"Well, well, well," she murmured. "I suppose I was right after all."
And with that, she went inside.
Johnny was standing out in front of a grocery store when Dally found him forty-five minutes later.
"Hey," he greeted awkwardly, leaning on the wall beside him. "Bryon and Pony treatin' you right?"
"Yeah," the brunette mumbled. "But they're really into each other now, and I feel kind of like they just ditched me..."
Dally put an arm around him and pulled him close. Johnny remained stiff for a moment before leaning into his friend's touch.
"You left again," he said quietly. "You scare me when you do that, you know."
Dally buried his fingers into the dark, silky strands of his lover's (yes, the title was now appropriate and well overdue) hair before kissing his forehead. "I'm sorry, Johnny. I love you, you know."
People walking past had ignored them up until now, but when Johnny yanked him by the back of the neck and they locked lips, Dallas was aware of several eyes. He didn't, however, pull away.
"Could you at least call next time?" Johnny asked in a hushed tone as a huffy a-hem broke them apart. His face was red and he was clearly embarrassed by his bold action, as well as Pony's impatient grunt.
Dally kissed him on the lips again and, smirking against them, whispered, "There won't be a next time; I promise."
Ignoring Pony's insistent and incessant foot-tapping (which Bryon soon soothed with a firm yet gentle touch to his shoulder), Dally leaned down to see eye-to-eye with Johnny. "Could you ever forgive me for being such a jackass?"
"That's putting it lightly," Pony grumbled. He seemed miffed he hadn't been able to lash out as of yet, so Dally allowed him that one remark. Instead, he remained focused on Johnny.
The brunette brought his hands up slowly and held Dally's face, sending electric shivers throughout the blonde's body.
Looking him right in the eyes, Johnny said, smoothly and clearly, "I will always forgive you."